The Cat the Drone and the Birthday Cake

Jason considered himself a “modern man.” He grilled vegetables, recycled, and owned no fewer than six smart devices — most of which he didn’t understand. So when his wife Maria’s birthday came around, Jason decided to go high-tech with her surprise party.

No balloons or streamers. No paper invitations. This year, the centerpiece would be a drone-delivered cake. His plan: at exactly 6:00 p.m., the drone would glide into the backyard, music playing, and lower a beautifully decorated red velvet cake into Maria’s hands.

What could go wrong

At 5:45 p.m., Jason hid the guests behind the sliding glass doors and gave a thumbs-up to Greg, his neighbor and designated drone pilot. Greg gave a salute — he had watched exactly one YouTube tutorial and felt very confident.

The drone whirred to life. It lifted the cake with surprising grace. Jason peeked out the window and whispered to the crowd, “It’s happening. Everyone get ready!”

Then came the problem.

Jason’s cat, a majestic yet chaotic Maine Coon named Meatball, had slipped outside. No one noticed him until it was too late.

Meatball looked up, saw the spinning drone above him, and made a decision. Was it curiosity? Hatred of technology? A desire to ride?

No one will ever know.

Meatball leapt six feet straight into the air and latched onto the cake box hanging from the drone.

The drone wobbled, beeped in panic, and started spinning. The cake tilted dangerously. Guests gasped. Jason yelled, “NO, MEATBALL!”

Greg tried to steer the drone back down, but Meatball was now part aerialist, part saboteur. He clawed one of the ribbon ties, and the cake began a slow, dramatic tilt — frosting-first toward the grass.

But before it could fall, the drone zipped left. Meatball swung like a furry wrecking ball, knocking Jason’s string lights clean off the patio.

Someone screamed, “IT’S GOT THE CAT! THE CAT HAS THE CAKE!”

The drone, overloaded and out of control, drifted toward the pool.

Jason, full of birthday spirit and regret, sprinted outside with arms waving. “LAND THE DRONE, GREG!”

“I’M TRYING!” Greg shouted, frantically mashing buttons on the controller, which had now switched to Chinese for reasons unknown.

The drone hovered uncertainly above the pool. Meatball let out a furious yowl. The cake began to slide. Jason dove forward just as gravity finished its job.

SPLAT

The cake hit him square in the face. The drone sputtered. Meatball landed on Jason’s chest with a wet “plop,” completely unfazed. The drone gave one last wheeze and belly-flopped into the pool.

Silence

Frosting dripped from Jason’s eyebrows. Meatball began to lick icing off his shirt. Somewhere inside, the “Happy Birthday” song started playing on someone’s phone, like a sad soundtrack to a war scene.

Maria stepped out onto the patio. She took in the sight: guests peeking through curtains, her husband covered in cake, her cat lounging smugly, and a dead drone floating like a submarine in the deep end.

She blinked. “So… this is the surprise?”

Jason sat up slowly, frosting oozing from his ear. “Happy Birthday?”

Maria burst out laughing. “This is the best party I’ve ever had.”

Moral

of the story

Never trust a drone, a cat, or a neighbor named Greg with your wife’s birthday.